Not-So-Super Hero
by baileybubbles
Summary: Anna Marie Grace never was like all the other girls. She loved comic books, sports, pretty much everything your average guy likes. One night, she finds out that she has the powers of her favorite superhero, and travels to Westchester with the X-Men. While trying to manage the not-so-much-of-a-gift she's been given, will she find out if the X-Men were ever only fiction?
1. Chapter 1

_Alaska Airlines Flight 2059_

I chew the peppermint flavored Orbit gum slowly, popping my ears. I was never really fond of peppermint, it is too strong a flavor for me, but at the moment, I just need something to chew on.

I am on a plane to Caldecott County, Mississippi. My family is moving there from Washington, and frankly, I'm not too happy about it. All my friends, my family, they're all up in Washington, and now I'm leaving them behind.

_Don't worry_, my best friend Katheryn had said with a smile. _We'll still keep in contact. And no matter what, you'll always be my best friend._

I sigh and shove the Safety Information packet I had been looking at in the seat pocket in front of me and look out the small round window and the dark, cloudy sky. It is raining hard, the drops pelting the plane and it doesn't look like they'll stop any time soon.

Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Anna Marie Grace. I am 14 years old and I have long, layered brown hair with two white streaks, one on each side of my hair, framing my face. I dyed it that way. My eyes are a piercing blue. I am about 5'5" and while other girls' sense of style is Lulu-Lemons and designer 'tops,' mine is jeans and graphic t-shirts.

If you haven't noticed already, I'm sort of a tomboy. I play football, I throw paper airplanes, most of the friends I have are dudes and I love superheroes. And that, dear reader, is why I have my hair dyed this way. I've seen every superhero movie there is and that includes the Dark Knight movies. Although, I've always preferred Marvel to DC.

What superhero, you may ask, has white streaks in her hair? On first instinct, I'd call you an idiot, but Mom always told me to watch my words less people get too frustrated and start to throw punches. So, with that in mind, her name is Rogue. Her real name is Anna Marie as well, which is kinda funny. I was named after her because Dad is a superhero nerd just like I am. We read comics, play superhero games online, and critique the movies on how accurate they are. But, back to Rogue.

Like I said before, she has her hair kinda like mine. The styles change over the years, but she's always had white in there somewhere. She is one of the superheroes that actually has powers: whenever she engages in skin-to-skin contact, she absorbs their powers and their memories, and they stay with her for some time, depending on how much time her skin was in contact with their's. Eventually, she permanently absorbed super strength and the ability to fly. I don't know why, but I've always had an interest in Rogue's character.

I snap out of my day dream as more turbulence shakes the plane. This time, a large gasp escapes most of the people on the plane. The turbulence has been getting more and more violent, and frankly, it's starting to freak me out. I tighten my grip on the armrests. My mom puts her hand on mine.

"Anna, everything's gonna be alright," she says with a soothing smile.

My mother is a beautiful woman. She is a tall, thin blonde, with aquamarine blue eyes. She almost always wears four inch heels, and classy clothes. She seems like one of the stereotypical fashion models, but really, she's an extremely kind woman. I nod in response as another shot of turbulence shakes the plane. This time though, a flash comes from outside.

"Lightning," I say as thunder booms outside. "Are you sure that we're going to get to Louisiana alright?"

"We'll make it Anna Marie," Mom says. "Don't you doubt it."

I nod. Another rendition of Mom reciting her motto again. Although, this time, I'm taking it to heart. I've never been on a plane ride like this, and believe me when I say that this storm isn't pretty. Another flash of lightning, but this time, wind starts to pull at my hair. Rain starts to pound hard against my face.

"Mom?" I shout against the force of the wind. I can barely hear myself. "Mom!"

I just got dark inside the plane. The lights stopped working, but slowly and surely, a fire is starting where the lightning struck. People started to put on parachutes that were stored in their armrests. They then unbuckle themselves and fly out of the plane.

Following their leads, I take out the parachute and slip my arms through the straps. I reach for my seatbelt. When I unlock it, I immediately eject from the seat. I'm lucky that I unbuckled myself when I did: the fire had grown. And that fire is the only light in the dark grey sky.

I remind myself of those moments in movies when people fall from the sky. I pull my arms and legs in and dive head first through the sky. I fall faster now, zooming past the flaming plane.

I grab a strap flying from the pack on my back. I pull on it, but nothing comes out. I yank again, multiple times, but there is still no parachute. And that's when I really start to freak out. I scream in panic as I see the ground get closer and closer to my face. I close my eyes to brace for impact. Right before I hit the ground, another thing comes in contact with my body and holds me close. A boy. We both slam against the ground with loud grunts.

For a moment, I can't move. The person who slammed into me doesn't move either. His arms are tight around me, and his breath is ragged.

"Are you… okay?" he asks after a long pause. He has a Southern accent.

"I," I start and gulp. "I'm fine."

The boy gets up and pulls me up along with him. I am extremely sore and sopping wet. To top it off, it's still dark and storming. I look up at the boy who had saved me. He has chocolate brown hair, and deep red and black sunglasses. He has a navy blue t-shirt that hugs his chest and over that, a brown trench coat. He has black jeans, and combat boots.

"Thank you," I say, my hair glued against my face.

"No problem," he says, managing a weak smile. I take a step forward and wince. My jeans and X-Men t-shirt are have holes in them, are wet, and are covered in grass stains. Down my leg, a stream of warm blood flows down to my feet.

The boy notices and curses. "Sit down."

I do as he says and he rips out a roll of bandages from the pockets of his trench coat. He wraps the bandage around the wound and rips the bandage. He sticks the adhesive side to my skin.

"Thanks," I say. "Again."

"No problem, chère," he looks up at me. We both pause for a moment. I reach up to the sides of his face and take the sides of his sunglasses. He sucks in his breath for a minute and I pause.

"Is," I say. "Is this okay? I want to see your eyes."

"You won't like what you see," he says.

I pull the sunglasses off his face to reveal the most stunning, yet beautiful eyes I've ever seen in my life. His corneas and pupils are raven black, and his eyes are a brilliant red. And then I feel that I've seen them before.

"You're—" I start.

Suddenly, a large blast resonates throughout the area, and a giant orange and black mushroom cloud explodes from farther away. My breath catches. The boy snatches his glasses back and jams them in the pocket of his trench coat.

"Sorry chère," he says. "But I can't sit 'round and chat at the moment." He bolts up to his feet and runs in the direction of the explosion.

"Wait!" I call after him. I leap to my feet and tear through the forest after him. I skid to a stop in a clearing. The not-so-funny part was that it wasn't clear, but in fact filled with a burning plane. The plane I was sitting in less than five minutes ago. I watch the flames grow and grow. I look around for my family, but see nobody. I see the boy that saved me and another scruffy looking man with a leather jacket, both carrying bodies.

I run towards the men as they set the bodies down. Once I see the faces of the bodies, I gasp. My father and my nine year-old brother Bobby lie in front of me. They aren't breathing.

I look up to the boy in the trench coat, tears starting to cloud my eyes. "Was there a blonde woman in there with blue eyes?" I ask. "She has really nice clothes, and—"

"No," he says. "I'm sorry."

I look at my brother and father and then back at the plane wreck. Tears start to spill from my eyes, but I don't make a single sound. I feel a hand on my shoulder, but I don't take my eyes from the flaming plane.

Tonight will stand out in my mind as the day that my family was torn apart.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own the characters that mine are based upon. I do not own the X-Men, the superhero/supervillian names that I put in this context, the mansion, or anything else like that. I do however own my characters.**

**Author's Note: ****This may not seem clear, but what happened is that Anna Marie just went to her prom, and slow danced with a guy. She touched his hand, and then her powers kicked into action for the first time. Running out of the gym, she had touched other people, knocking them out as well. So of course, people started to freak out, and that brings me to the present day.**

…**..**

_5 years later_

I don't know how I am going to get home. Worse yet, I am alone and have to find my way away from the scene. I could get in trouble. Cops would come, and I doubt they would understand what had just happened. Screams come from the inside of the gym. I open up the door a tiny crack and see blue and red lights from the other side of the room. Cops were there trying to stop the panicking students from destroying the gym, and medics were checking the pulses of the people I had touched.

"My god," I mutter to myself and look at my bare hand. "The people that I had touched…"

"Hey!"

I look up to see that a cop has found me. _No. No, no, no._ I step back down the backstairs of the gym and the door opens. Purple, blue, and hot pink lights flow into the backlot.

"Listen, I need you to tell me what happened," the cop says carefully and takes a few steps towards me. His badge says _C. Peterson_.

"Stay away from me!" I shriek and step back, hiding my hands into my jean jacket. My white ruffled gown was wet, and muddy at the five inches closest to the concrete. My jean jacket was speckled with rain drops, and my cowboy boots were killing my feet.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you just tell me what's going on," Officer Peterson says to me and reaches out his hand. He gets deathly close to touching my arm.

"Don't touch me!" I cry and take even more steps back. "You'll get hurt!"

Other officers were starting to bleed through the back doors of the gymnasium.

"No!" I cry. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to do it!" It didn't look like they were going to stop coming to me. I start to run away.

"Hey! Stop!" Officer Peterson yells after me. I keep running down the back alley. The sound of grunts and cries of pain echo from the back lot. I look back briefly and find officers lying on the ground. I run back to check on them. I find Officer Peterson in the midst of all the bodies. I bring my fingers to his wrist to check his pulse. Suddenly, many different memories flood into my head, but they aren't mine. There's an older woman and a baby, a man sitting in a bar facing me and laughing, and more. So much more.

I take my fingers off his skin, stopping the memories from flowing into me, but the ones that reached me stay. Stunned I get up and stumble backwards. I run. As fast as I can down the alley, the rain continuing to pelt my already soaked self. I cry, for my sake, because I can't take it anymore. I trip in a pothole and tumble, but strong arms catch me. I look up through crying eyes to see a boy maybe two years older than I am with chin-length brown hair, black fingerless gloves, and a trench coat. He sports deep red and black sunglasses, but I already know what his eyes look like behind them: red irises and the rest, raven black. He had grown some stubble on his chin.

It was the boy from five years ago in the plane crash, and he is even more beautiful and handsome than the last time I saw him.

I can't take it anymore: memories that aren't mine running through my head, the pain of knowing I've hurt so many people, and then the boy that saved me on that plane crash the night that my family shattered. My Gambit.

I burry my head in his chest and sob. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, the warmth from his body enveloping me. He places a hand on the back of my wet, tangled hair, pressing my head to his chest. In turn, I wrap my arms tightly around him.

And we stand there, the strong boy in the trench coat and the sobbing girl in the white ruffled dress, holding each other in the rain.

…

We walk down the alley, his arm around me. He had given me his trench coat, which, on me, goes down mid-calf. When we exit the alley, there are lots of police cars surrounding the street. I lean into the boy, and his hold on me tightens.

"Alright chère," he says quietly to me. "We're going to need to go quick enough that we get out of there, but we can't attract attention."

I nod and wipe tears away from my face. I take a deep breath, and we speed walk away from the school. He whispers progressively in my ear. Once we round the corner, we break into a run. After I trip on my skirt and heels a good three to five times, I kick off my cowboy boots and rip the skirt so that now, the skirt that once ended at my ankles, now ends just under my knees. The trench coat flies behind me.

After maybe ten minutes of running, we turn out of the city and towards the forest. We keep running.

Folks complain about the pain of stepping on Legos. Stepping on sticks, stones, roots, pinecones, and tripping over potholes every ten seconds is just as worse. So kids, my one piece of advice is 'don't try this at home and if you do, don't sue me.'

We stop at a clearing, and I recognize it. It's the clearing where Alaska Airlines Flight 2059 had crashed. Where they had found my brother and father dead and my mother missing. The pain comes back fresh. The plane wreckage isn't there. They had that cleaned up after the crash. Now, sitting in it's place is a shiny, black jet starting to take off.

"Come on," a man shouts from inside. "We don't have all day."

The boy and I rush inside. And then the jet flies away.

I find the nearest empty seat in the plane and collapse into it, breathing hard. My eyes are probably red from crying, and my feet are sore and pine needles are stuck to them with sap. The boy sits down next to me. I curl into a ball and he pulls me onto his lap. I lean against his chest.

"Thanks," I say, my voice quavering. I hand his trench coat back to him. He takes it back.

"What for?" he asks. His Southern accent has stuck with him all this time.

"Saving me," I say. "Helping me escape. Coming back for me."

He smiles, reaches up and twirls strands of my white hair in his fingers. "I knew I recognized the white streaks from somewhere."

"What's going to happen to me?" I ask.

"You're coming back home with us," he replies, still fingering my hair.

"Where's home?"

"Westchester," he says.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Beau," he replies. "Beau Chastain. And your's?"

"Anna Marie Grace," I reply. I feel my eyelids getting heavy. "Beau?"

"Yeah, chère?"

"Am I dreaming?" I wonder, my vision growing hazier.

"This is all very real, Anna," he says softly. He smells of smoke and burnt sugar, and the scent envelopes me in a warm hug.

"Okay," I say and let the soothing sound of his breathing lull me to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up surrounded by the scent of Purel and cardboard. Because everybody loves waking up to that smell, don't they? I open my eyes slowly to look around. The room's walls are a metallic blue color, and the ceiling is a fresh white. I raise my head and bring my bare feet to the cool ground. I'm still wearing my filthy dress, and my jean jacket is torn at the edges. I look around and find shelves with folded clothing on top. I change quickly into a navy blue hoodie and sweat pants. That's when I see the doors.

They are circular, and the same metallic blue. Over the blue metal, however, is a giant silver 'X'. It seems familiar, like if seen something like that before.. My hand immediately races to my hair, fingering the white strands carefully. I see the glint of a knife and my unoccupied hand reaches toward it. I balance the blade in my palm and wrap my fingers around the leather hilt.

My hair is long, and the tips reach down to the middle of my back, however, I always kept my white hair short. I gather my hair into a ponytail, and with one clean motion, my severed hair tumbles to the ground. My hair is short and layered again. I have to admit it, I had missed my old haircut.

And in this moment, I feel 14 again.

I walk toward the door and it opens as soon as I'm two feet away. I exit the room and pad barefoot down the hallway staring at all the doors. I find an elevator and press the _Floor 1 _button. In only a matter of seconds, I'm in a massive room with cherry wood flooring.

I place my hand against a wooden beam, and that's when I remember last night's, well, _incident_. I quickly shove my hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt and continue examining the joint.

I walk farther in and find a large library.

"No way," I breathe.

_Unbelievable isn't it?_

I spin around, my fists balled up, but there's no one behind me.

_It's alright, I don't mean to harm you, _the voice continues in my head. It's masculine,

"Who are you?" I look around the room, but not a human being is in sight.

_Do not fear. Come meet me, _it says. _By the staircase there's a hallway. Go down that hallway, second door on the left._

Slowly I comply, and continue down the thin hallway. I knock on the door quietly.

"Come in," says the same voice from my mind. I open the door and step in.

The walls are a vine green color, with the same wooden floor from the hall and living room. In the back of the room is a small bookshelf filled with many different volumes. In the center of the room is a desk, and sitting behind that desk, is a man. He has a small amount of grey hairs on his head, and his eyes are king and a faint blue shade.

"Hello, Anna Marie," he says.

"How do you know my name?" I ask.

_The same way I can do this_, he says, a smile on his face.

I open my mouth the reply, but close it instead.

"I am Professor William Starr," he says, and comes out from behind the desk. He sits in a wheelchair. "And I am the owner and headmaster here."

"And where exactly is 'here?'" I ask, putting my hands on my waist.

"Starr's School for the Gifted," the Professor says.

At the word gifted, I step back and reach for the doorknob.

"You know," I say. "It's been really nice meeting you and everything, but I really should go."

"There is no need," the Professor starts.

"Please," I say. "This is for your own safety.

"Anna Marie," he says, but I rush out of the room. I run back to the living room, and rush out the door. I look back quickly at the mansion, but when I turn my head back around, I ram into something hard.

My first guess is a tree, but I highly doubt that I would have made a tree grunt, wrap it's limbs around me, and fall down.

"You know, chère," a bemused voice says. "We really need to stop getting into these situations."

I look up and find myself lying on top of Beau Chastain.

We are face to face, and my elbows are propped up on top of his chest. His arms are still wrapped around me. My hair has tumbled into my face, but not enough that I can't see his startling crimson eyes. A little smirk plays across his face.

"I," I gulp a little and start to climb up. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

When I start to keep running, Beau, who is like a speed demon, grabs my arm and pulls me in again. His arms are back around my waist.

"No rush," he says. His black t-shirt hugs his chest perfectly, showing off just how freakishly ripped he is.

"I really need to go," I say and push against him.

"No, you really need to stay," the Professor says, coming out of the building. "Anna Marie we can help you."

"Please, just," I say.

"Chère," Beau says from beside me. "Do you trust me?"

I stare at him.

"Do you trust me?" he repeats, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Just get me gloves," I say and shove my hands into my pocket. Beau keeps an arm around my hips as he and the Professor guide me back into the mansion.


End file.
